Melinda took me to a little place around the corner from Joan’s house, where she had obviously frequented before. She ordered a bottle of wine and a neat tray of oysters as I browsed the menu and tried to ignore the terrifying prices. This wasn’t the sort of black-tie locale that the Delta Epsilon brothers had visited, but it had its own, understated chic luxury in its minimal design. Once again, a place I’d never have thought of visiting by myself. But Melinda seemed absolutely at her ...